4My shy protests were invitations, really.I was pointing out the cracks.I was born with cracks.I’m a mosaic now, full of glue and glass.You didn’t mean to carve away so much.But the hammer slipped, and you’re an artist.

5I’ve found my chisel.

6I am what’s not there.

7Can you see me now? Am I the right shape? Do I fit?

8Can you feel where I am? The parts that are rough, and smooth?

The Civil Ceremony Comes First

I stood in a forest of branches and debris and posed for a picture.

I am wearing my black winter coat.

Underneath it I am wearing a white dress.

Outside of the Circuit Court of Cook County, I am wondering.

I am trying to predict.

*

(I am in a forest of pictures and black coats.The prediction is white dress.Underneath the debris there is a forest which posed for a picture.)

I am a forest of predictions, which I hang on the branches of debris.Outside, I am underneath branches, trying to stand.I am civil, but posed.I am wearing the predictions, the white dress, and the coat.I am wondering, and trying to picture the underneath.The debris poses for a picture, and underneath, it tries to predict.Standing in branches, the picture poses.